


If You Immediately Know the Candle Light is Fire...

by Tallulah_Rasa



Series: These Days [1]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Season/Series 08, meaning of life stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-31
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2018-02-11 05:58:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2056440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tallulah_Rasa/pseuds/Tallulah_Rasa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As he begins another chapter, Jack struggles with the meaning of dirt, the significance of symbols, and the incommensurate importance of small decisions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Immediately Know the Candle Light is Fire...

**Author's Note:**

> Set right around the start of S.8. (Jack’s *just*moved from leading SG-1 to leading the SGC, and the team is not yet SG-1.2.) The title is from Oma Desala, who probably doesn’t know what it means, either. 
> 
> This as the start of a Jack trilogy, followed by “A Cinderella Story” (which takes place when Jack’s working in D.C.) and “Half-Life” (which is a post-retirement story).

“I’m…damn, I’m just not sure,” Jack said. 

“Sir…?” Sam ventured.

Teal’c frowned and stepped back, clearly considering the possibility of alien mind control, as well as the likely location of the nearest zat.

Jack could read Teal’c like a DoD directive. “This isn’t the fault of the Crappolas,” he said quickly.

“Creppolians,” Daniel corrected on cue, without looking up from the report he was reading.  “And since the evidence suggested that their race had no technology to speak of, _and_ died out several thousand years ago, no, probably not.”

Jack waved a hand dismissively.  “Whatever.”

Teal’c’s expression changed only slightly.  “If this is not a result of our trip to P3X-117, then to what do you attribute this uncharacteristic behavior, O’Neill?”

Jack stared at Teal’c for a moment, thinking.  “I blame Daniel,” he finally said.

“Daniel’s been with SG-5 for the past week,” Sam pointed out. 

“Your point being?”

Sam gave him the tiniest of grins.  “He was on another planet, Sir.  He could hardly have…”  She stopped, considered her apparently oblivious teammate, looked back at Jack, and nodded.  “I see your point, Sir.”

“On.  Another. Planet,” Daniel repeated as he turned a page.  “I in no way contributed to or take responsibility for--”

“It’s like that time with the Gadmeer,” Jack broke in thoughtfully.

“You sense imminent danger, O’Neill?” Teal’c asked, immediately on alert.

“There are technical issues overlaying your strategic concerns?” Sam suggested, flipping open a convenient laptop.

“You remember the name of the Gadmeer?” Daniel asked, not only looking up then, but dropping his report onto a plate of half-eaten pizza.

Jack rolled his eyes.  “What I meant was, there are two valid points of view here, and I…I’m not sure which should take precedence.”

Teal’c and Sam exchanged a look.  “I will alert the medical officer on call,” Teal’c said.

“Jack, did the best team win the Stanley Cup in…uh…1988?” Daniel asked absently, eyes now focused on a slightly coffee-stained textbook.

“Are you kidding?” Jack shot back.  “The Oilers won 4-0 in five games – they had to replay the fourth game because of a power failure at the Boston Garden -- and  through the whole thing, the Oilers only allowed Boston nine goals.  It was--”

“Jack’s fine,” Daniel said to Teal’c. 

Jack glared.  “You shouldn’t start a conversation if you don’t mean to finish it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Daniel said, pushing his glasses up and making a quick note on a napkin.

“I don’t really understand how this is Daniel’s fault,” Sam said, with her _I’m running the calculations in my head, and I don’t think you’ve given me all the data_ face.

Jack sighed.  “He went on and on about the ramifications of the--”

“I was on another planet,” Daniel interrupted again as he scribbled something, crossed it out, and then scrawled something else.  “I just got back.”

“I know,” Jack said.  “You didn’t call, you didn’t write.  And we’ll be talking about _that_ later.  But apparently you don’t have to be here to argue with me.  By now, I know all your arguments by heart.”

Daniel shrugged, a cross between _Who, me?_ and _My work here is done_ , but Sam made a face.  “This doesn’t have to do with P17-9002, does it?” she asked.

“You’ll have to be more specific, Carter.  P17…?”

“Three weeks ago.  Flying toasters,” Daniel supplied helpfully.

“Ah,” Jack said.  “Nice place.”

“The natives were aggressive, argumentative, and telepathic,” Teal’c reminded him.

“They made a damn good breakfast, though,” Jack said.  “As missions go, that one was pretty enjoyable.”

 Sam squinted.  “Sir, you got whacked in the head by one of those…”

“Flying toasters,” Daniel supplied again.

“Indeed,” Teal’c said.  “Despite Daniel Jackson specifically alerting you to the need for evasive action.”

“He yelled, ‘Duck!’,” Jack said.  “I thought he was pointing out the mythological significance of their wildlife.  Or its similarity to ours, or something.  But look, I wasn’t concussed, and anyway, this is off topic.”

Daniel turned a page.  “We had a topic?”

“Says the guy who’s translating something about dirt,” Jack scoffed.

“It could be about soil,” Daniel said, gesturing to the report he’d been reading.  “I’ve gone over the translation six times; it’s just not clear. We’ll know more in an hour, when we get the report from the probe.”

Jack sighed.  “Does it seem to anybody else that we…” He looked at Daniel, who was rifling through the pages of another book, and then started again.  “My desk – my new desk – has a key,” he said. “Walter has to keep finding it for me, and reminding me to use it.”

For one awkward moment no one was on point.  Daniel toyed with a Kleenex.  Teal’c ran one hand over his abdomen.  Sam rubbed the back of her neck, and then she looked up and met Daniel’s eyes, and Teal’c’s, and she nodded. 

“So what you’re saying, General,” she said, ever the diligent second-in-command, “is that on second thought, we shouldn’t have gone with the pepperoni? Because at the time, we all agreed.”

Jack stared at her for a moment, head tilted. “Well now that you mention it, I _am_ having a touch of indigestion, Carter.  But what I--”

“Right.  Mushroom and onion next time,” Sam went on. “We can try that new place on Delaney.”

“We’d better not wait too long,” Jack said dryly.  “What with SG-12 stumbling on yet another race of aliens --”

“The B’hag’z,” Daniel offered.

“The Bags,” Jack repeated, “who’ve decided to say hello by threatening to destroy the planet.”  He frowned.  “That’s getting damned old.  You’d think just once we’d get a ‘Welcome to the galaxy!’ and a coffee cake.”

“It’s possible they’re not threatening us,” Daniel said, skimming through a page of symbols with an ink-stained finger.

Jack turned to him.  “They want to…what was it?”

“Maybe  ‘turn us into dirt’,” Daniel conceded.  “But it could be ‘turn slush into dirt.’ ”  He sat back and rubbed his eyes.  “Maybe they live on an ice planet, and want our help developing a viable agricultural program.”

“Right,” Jack said.  “Maybe they just want to start a farm.  Or maybe not.  But no problem; we’ll either send them seeds or a tactical nuke.”

His voice echoed a little in the empty commissary, so many floors beneath the  surface of the Earth.

“Uncertainty is discouraged in warriors,” Teal’c said after a minute.  “And yet Master Bra’tac often said that with uncertainty comes the beginning of true knowledge.”

“Uncertainty can also be the by-product of experience,” Daniel said quietly.  “As we learn more, we understand more about the complexity of…well, everything.  We become less likely to jump to conclusions; more likely to see the validity of other points of view.”

“Selmac always said that wisdom came over time,” Sam said.  “That it takes years to realize that there’s more than one path through the woods.”

Jack snorted.  “I’m sure all thatwill come in handy when the President calls to ask what we should do about these dirt…Bags.”

“Yeah,” Daniel said, looking up again; looking right at Jack.  “It probably will.” 

Jack’s shoulders relaxed a bit.

“And if not, you can always flip a coin,” Daniel said.  “I’ve got a quarter I can loan you.”

“Okay, then,” Jack said.  “As long as we’ve got a plan.”

“So, back to the original question, then,” Sam said.  “You need to choose, Sir.”

This time, Jack smiled.  “Well, then…chocolate _and_ vanilla, Carter.”

Sam smiled back.  “Good decision, Sir.  Teal’c, help me in the kitchen?  I’m going to need a hand with all those candles.” 

Jack watched them go, and then looked back at Daniel.  “Nothing to say about natal celebrations, Dr. Jackson?  The cultural meaning of aging?  The derivation of the word, ‘geezer’?” 

“Well,” Daniel said, making a show of pushing aside his report and a stack of books, “there _are_ myths that deal with the price we pay for experience and knowledge, and—”

“Can we get on with the singing and cake already?” Jack called out.

 “Actually,” Sam announced from the kitchen doorway, where Teal’c stood with a dish awash in burning candles, “it’s a birthday pie.”

Jack looked around the room, looked at his team.  “Nice choice,” he said. 

“Happy Birthday, Jack,” Daniel said.

“Many happy returns, Sir,” Sam added.

“Indeed,” Teal’c said.  “These are my wishes, as well.”

“Yadda,” Jack said.  “I’m making my first command decision, here: let’s eat.” 

End

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a lot longer, bursting with explanations and exposition and metaphors. I cut most of that stuff out on the theory that what was left would tell the story – kind of how a half-empty plate can tell you that someone just ate dinner, and didn’t like the peas. I’m not sure if that decision made for a coherent story, but it did make for a shorter one.


End file.
